


End Game

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Danger, Friendship, Gen, Intrigue, Partnership, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Solo and Kuryakin are tasked with guarding the daughter of a powerful Shiek, who also happens to be a friend of Alexander Waverly. Thing don't quite go to plan, putting Napoleon's life danger





	

       
  
  


                         
  
  
All the chess pieces had been moved, the exchange of a queen, a knight and the serious reduction of forces had been made. It was now the endgame, and Napoleon knew it.  


  
However, the pieces in this game weren't on a chessboard; they were real people, living human beings and Solo's partner was among them.

If Napoleon made the wrong move, said the wrong words, Illya Kuryakin would die and it would be his fault. An innocent could lose her life in this gambit as well.

Prince Omar Al-Awsat, was counting on the loyalty of the American towards his Russian friend. He was the key piece on the board in this battle of wits; Kuryakin was the prize for Solo, and Al-Awsat's trophy would be the head of Napoleon Solo for sullying his jewel... his daughter  _Akilah,_  whose name in Arabic meant  _'matchless pearl._ ' But now that was no longer the case, and the man responsible for ruining her would pay with his life.

The UNCLE agents had been sent to guard her, and instead the American dog deflowered his treasure. She was to be married off in an arranged wedding to Sheik Malik, a controller of many oil wells in the Arabian desert. It would have been a financial boon to have him as a son-in-law, he, a cousin to the ruling King Saud, but now Malik would not touch Akilah as she was no longer a virgin and used goods.

"Why did you have to do it Napoleon?" Illya hissed as they hustled to get out of Dodge."You just could not keep it in your pants, could you?"

"I didn't lay a hand on her or anything else for that matter!" Napoleon snarled.

"Oh, then who did?" The Russian snapped, "I am sorry my friend, knowing your track record with desirable, scantily clothed women, I find that hard to believe," his voice oozed with sarcasm. He was usually tolerant of his partner's womanizing ways, but when it interfered with an assignment, that was where Kuryakin drew the line, especially when Napoleon's nocturnal activities included taking the innocence of the very girl they were supposed to have been guarding.

"For the last time, I'm telling you it wasn't me, God dammit. Why won't you believe me Illya?" He was aghast at his friend's attitude.

The Russian turned his head away, refusing to look at him.

"Napoleon, the girl said it was you. You were found in her bedroom, were you not? And she was in a state of...undress, was she not? I am afraid there is preponderance of evidence against you."

"I went in there because I heard her cry out, and as soon as I opened the door, I saw a man heading out the window, and she was...well, there in the bed, but I swear on my grandmother's grave, I didn't touch her."

Illya wanted to believe him but at the moment his temper, which rarely revealed itself was coloring is attitude. Right now he needed to concern himself more with escaping Al-Awsat's palace without the both of them being caught, as there would be dire consequences if they were.

Omar Al-Awsat was a shrewd businessman and a personal friend of Alexander Waverly's; that was why his two top agents had been assigned to, for all intents and purposes, a babysitting job.

They were to ensure Akilah's virginity remained intact just before the wedding to Sheik Malik. It was now a disaster and Waverly, no doubt, would be furious, much less mortified his top agent purportedly had sex with Al-Awsat's daughter.

"Speaking of windows,"Illya said, "perhaps rather than making our exit through the palace, we leave the way your imaginary man disappeared as well," he huffed as he hopped over the balcony railing from their room and scurried down a trellis like a monkey to the courtyard below.

Napoleon snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering their passports and grabbed them, they'd be needed once they'd gotten out of the country and into Israel. The luggage and clothing would have to be written off as a loss. He stepped quickly to the balcony and scanned the darkness, not seeing a sign of his partner. Illya was probably stewing in the shadows somewhere...

Solo climbed down, hitting the cobbled courtyard with a soft thud as he jumped the last few feet from the trellis, landing in a crouched position.

"Illya?" He called, keeping his voice low, but there was no answer.

"Crap, what the hell are you up to now?" He muttered to himself, knowing his partner was pretty angry with him.

Napoleon scaled a growth of heavy vines that climbed the walls surrounding the palace, and jumping down from the top to the streets below; he retreated into the night, hoping to find his partner waiting out there, but he didn't.

The next day Napoleon desperately searched for the Russian, but having to do so while hiding made that a bit difficult. Illya was not answering his communicator, and Solo wondered if he was that mad at him to just ignore his calls. Though he dreaded it, the next thing Napoleon did was to report the awkward situation to Alexander Waverly.

"What the deuce is going on there Mr. Solo?" Waverly barked. "I just received a call from the Prince telling me you...ahem, ravished his daughter on the eve of her wedding. I assured him you would have done no such thing and are my most trusted agent. Please tell me I told him the truth?"

"Yes sir, you did. " Napoleon recounted the events of the previous evening.

"Very well, then. Thank you Mr. Solo for not making a liar of me. I will contact Omar again and give him my personal reassurances, having spoken to you. I'm sure he will have a talk with his daughter and find out who is this mysterious lover of hers."

"Excuse me sir, have you heard from Mr. Kuryakin. We became separated last night, and I haven't been able to contact him. He was, shall we say, quite put out about this whole Akilah business, and was not as willing to believe me as you were."

"No Mr. Solo, we have not had any recent communications from him. Oh dear," the Old Man sighed. " I hope this nonsense hasn't gotten him into some sort of trouble. We'll try to locate his whereabouts, in the meantime please endeavor to 'lay low' until we can resolve this mess?"

"Yes sir," Napoleon answered humbly as his boss continued to lecture him.

"If Saudi Arabias ruler, King Saud were to find out this news; this incident could easily take on international proportions. The country is growing into the largest oil producer in the world and with that position comes great influence. Saud is facing opposition from Prince Faisal, as the King's extravagant lifestyle is beginning to lead the kingdom in a direction of financial ruin. Corruption and backwardness are weakening the regime."

"Still, Omar is a follower of the King and not Faisal, so the power of  _al-Mamlakah al-'Arabiyyah as-Su'ūdiyyah_ kingdom of Saudi Arabia_  would be behind Al-Awsat in this scandalous matter. The union of Sheik Malik and Akilah was to have given Omar a greater, perhaps calming influence with King Saud, but now I'm afraid that will never happen." Waverly paused, clearing his throat. "Enough said in this regard; Al-Awsat is quite upset, so I repeat, please try to stay out of sight Mr. Solo until things are sorted out?"

"I will endeavor to do so, sir."

"I am simply astounded that a routine assignment has escalated to..."

"Yes sir, I know," Napoleon deliberately interrupted him.

The communicator went silent as Waverly closed the connection without saying another word.

Napoleon did exactly as he was told for once, it did help that a sandstorm of an impressive size and duration had blown in from the desert. There was something else the winds had brought as well; Napoleon, wrapped in a traditional hooded burnoose, risked going out from his hiding place for some food and he spotted flyers having been distributed in the area surrounding the palace.

They called for him so surrender himself, otherwise Illya Kuryakin was to be beheaded by noon the following day in the great courtyard of Al-Awsat's regal estate. Napoleon tried contacting headquarters to update his boss and to see if he could stop this, but the sandstorm was interfering with communications.

Even though Napoleon was guiltless; he knew he had but one choice, and that was to surrender. He couldn't let Illya die...not that he wanted to die himself, but he wasn't going to let Kuryakin suffer for something, in essence, that he had nothing to do with.

Not fully confident his endgame would play out in his favor; Napoleon hoped he could convince Omar of the truth, and that his daughter would admit to her lies.

It was a catch 22 as Akilah could lose her life for her act of infidelity and her lies to protect herself from her father's wrath...still Napoleon had to take the chance as he couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

Just before noon, that he made his way in the swirling dust to the palace, pounding on the great wooden gate to be let inside.

"I think your master is expecting me," he said as it was opened.

He was escorted at at gunpoint to the inner courtyard, and there he saw his partner bound and kneeling on a platform, with a scimitar-wielding executioner standing beside him; his sword ready to relieve the Russian of his blond head.

Omar Al-Awsat stood, hit ornately embroidered red robes whipping in the winds; his look was that of someone gloating that his plan had worked.

Beside him veiled in dark robes, with her face covered, was his daughter, her head bowed in shame.

"I see you do possess some sense of honor Mr. Solo. You have redeemed a portion of it by not permitting your friend to be executed for your crime."

"Do not do this, Prince Omar. Can you not see this is a stupid mistake you are about to make? Surely even you can see that." Illya cried out.

"Are you trying to make me think I am stupid? I know my own child. She would not lie to me." Omar barked at him in Arabic."  _الغبي لا يسامح ولا ينسى, الساذج يسامح وينسى لكن الحكيم يسامح ولا ينسى_the stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naïve forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget.'_  My daughter will receive forgiveness for being seduced by the likes of your partner, though she is now lost to me."

"ل _ا احد يجعلك تشعر بالدنائه بدون رضاك, يعني بالعربي اذا جدارك واطي بيندعس على غاربك_no one can make you feel inferior without your consent,_ " Illya shouted back at him in Arabic.

"Look to your daughter, and see the truth in her eyes," Napoleon called as the guards bound his hands and led him struggling to where his partner knelt. Illya was lifted to his feet and moved aside, though he managed to kick one guard in the shin.

Omar did just that, and looked into Akilah's eyes and saw the tears welling up in them.

"Daughter, did you lie to me? Fear not, tell me the truth and no harm will become you."

"And if I do tell you, what will become of the man I love father?"

Omar bowed his head. "I make no promise child. What you have just asked, however, has told me Mr. Solo is innocent." He turned to his men, clapping his hands, "Free them, as my daughter's words have proven Mr. Solo is free of guilt. Please Mr. Kuryakin, Mr. Solo no harm has been done, forgive an overly protective father. The saying is true... _"لحب أعمى_l...ove is blind."_

If looks could kill, Omar would have been dead twice over from the icy glare of the Russian, but Solo was quick to acknowledge Al-Awsat's words.

"Thank you for your wise decision," he bowed.

Omar placed an open hand to his breast, giving the UNCLE agents a small bow, and returned his attention to Akilah.

"Tell me daughter, who is this man that you love?"

"It is Prince Abdullah of the house of Saud." She lowered herself to her father's feet, crying out, " Please spare him father?"

Omar smiled, "Prince Abdulla? There was no need for an execution, or shrewdness as he knew his daughter would be now marrying a member of the royal family, and his position with them would be fortified better than ever.

Napoleon and Illya were escorted back to their rooms; Omar having told them they were welcome to remain as his honored guests as an apology for the misunderstanding, to which he was now referring to his daughter's poor behavior.

They declined.

Hours later the winds of the haboob ceased and white Rolls Royce arrived in the courtyard to take Napoleon and Illya to Al-Awsat's private airport, where his Leerjet was being readied to take them back to New York.

"So what were those Arabic sayings about forgiveness that you pulled out of your rear?" Napoleon finally asked as they boarded their flight.

Illya tried smiling. One I did not say, but one I should use now. He spoke in Arabic...  _"سامح محبيك وحب مسامحيك_It basically translates to,forgive the people who truly love you and love the people who truly forgive you_. Napoleon, I apologize for doubting you. Can you forgive me?"

"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong," Solo repeated an Arabic saying in English. "And I am strong, very strong."

" _Spacibo,_ " Illya said, "I will never doubt you again my friend."

"You better not," Solo chuckled, "or next time someone's going to chop off your head, I might not show up to save you."

"Napoleon!" The Russian's baby blues stared at him in surprise.

"Only kidding, only kidding." Napoleon cocked his eyebrows as he smiled,  instantly disarming his friend.  
  
  



End file.
